


Sirius Gets in a Fight

by byebyebluejay



Series: Mischief Managed: Marauding Stories [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hogwarts, Homophobia, M/M, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Sirius kicks ass, but it all ends on a happy note, james is a good friend, light language and boyish attitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 15:58:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: It's seventh year for the Marauders, and tensions are running high in the weeks leading up to their final exams. Remus and Sirius decide to retire early from one particular study session, and run into a bit of trouble in the hallway. Sirius, being Sirius, refuses to take lip lying down.





	Sirius Gets in a Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I have to put a disclaimer here, because of how purely non-angsty everything else in this series is. This one's not all pranks and goofs and I considered putting it on its own, but I decided I wanted to put it in the series, because it takes place in the same timeline and I wanted to put Mini Padfoot in there, which wouldn't make total sense alone. More or less, a student sees how Sirius and Remus are acting together, tries to give them shit, and Sirius gets in a fight with them. The whole thing is sort of upsetting to Remus. There's some serious talk, but there's hugs and cathartic laugh-crying at the end. The violence warning is just in case people are squicked by descriptions of the sort of blood that happens during some fistfights. Anyway, hope I walked the line between giving you guys fair warning just in case and spoiling the whole thing.

They had been studying in the Room of Requirement for only two hours, the four of them sitting on comfortable chairs before a shared table, Mini Prongs and Mini Padfoot standing by to provide assistance, but Sirius, denied his motorbike magazines, was losing focus fast. Apparently, the fact that the Room of Requirement was not technically the library did nothing to help improve his attitude towards doing homework or studying for his N.E.W.Ts. With a dull moan, he drooped onto the table, placing his open transfiguration textbook down on the top of his head.

“Minnie—I love Minnie, I love her, and I do— but why would she give us this bloody transfigurations essay when we have a bloody transfigurations N.E.W.T. in a bloody month?” He groaned, voice distorted by the hollow space beneath the book.

“Tu es plus paresseux qu'un loir qui a attrapé la maladie du baiser,” Mini Padfoot said from where he was curled up in Remus’s lap.

“Feeling vulgar, Padfoot?” Remus asked, smirking, as he set his quill back in his inkwell. Sirius only groaned again in response. James, who had downed three cups of coffee that he had personally attempted to magically concentrate (against all common sense and Remus’s recommendations) was staring through his essay, hands visibly trembling. Peter was squinting down at his essay.

“Among the moral implications of advanced human transfigurations are the moral problems associated with advanced human transfiguration… bugger,” He read blearily, mopping at his eyes, “This sentence doesn’t make any sense at all. I keep going around in circles.”

“T’as le cerveau d'un sandwich au fromage,” said Mini Padfoot.

“Can you shut that thing up, Moony?” James said, not looking up from his essay. They had discovered over the course of the past year that Sirius had charmed Mini Padfoot to only stop his stream of French insults when Remus asked him to, and even then, only for an hour or so, tops. He was also the only one exempt from its insults, though Sirius refused to acknowledge either fact. After that realization, it had all become that much funnier, even if Remus could only parse a few of the words.

“Mini Padfoot, could you please be quiet?” He said, and the plush dog obediently tucked his nose down, beneath his paws. From beneath his textbook, Sirius let out a single, quiet bark of laughter. Remus glanced down at his own essay—three paragraphs down, but still a foot and a half to write—then looked over at Sirius, Peter and James. Sirius had half-finished his essay, though his handwriting was slapdash and unusually large. James’s, written in a shaky scribble, meandered down the page on a very messy margin, but was nearly finished. Peter was on his second go of it, the first attempt filled up with crossed out sentences. A grim scene, overall. Dragging his hand over his mouth, he considered. 

“Maybe we should give up on this for right now,” Remus said, removing his quill from his inkwell and wiping it clean, before stoppering the bottle and beginning to pack up, “I think we all need some rest.” The room, apparently hopeful, made three cots appear in its corner—because James was too wired to sleep, Remus assumed. 

“I don’t think I’m going to fall asleep tonight,” James said bluntly, not looking up from his essay. 

“If I just finish this, if I can just finish…” Peter mumbled, rubbing his fingertips to his temples, “This is horrible. But I’ll feel so much better.” 

“Well, I’m going to go take a nap,” Remus said, pushing back his chair, scooping Mini Padfoot up under one arm and standing up, “I’m getting nowhere. Sirius?”

Sirius sat up, the textbook falling off his head and flopping open onto the table. “I’ll come with you,” He said at once, scrambling to shove his partially completed essay into his bag, followed by his book, quills and ink, “I can’t stand it in here any longer.” 

They walked out into the seventh floor corridor and smiling slyly, Sirius slid his hand into Remus’s, squeezing tight. It had been a while since he and Mary Macdonald had gotten together, with or without the rest of the Gryffindor girls, and his black nail polish was chipped, but his hands still had some of that exfoliated softness left. Remus stroked the back of his hand with the pads of his fingers. 

“So,” Sirius said after a long moment as they rounded a corner together, “You fancy a nap. I fancy a nap. How about we both nap together?” Remus nearly collided with a student Remus immediately recognized as a sixth year Gryffindor prefect Michael Devane. Sirius, whose eyes had been fixed on Remus, instead of where he was going, did run into him, though took a step back and recovered himself neatly. 

“Watch it!” Michael said, rubbing his shoulder as he reeled backwards. Then his eyes moved from their faces to their clasped hands, and his expression froze. Remus immediately pulled his fingers free of Sirius’s, but it was too late for the gesture to go unnoticed. 

Trying for aloofness, he took a breath, “Sorry about that, Michael, didn’t mean to run into you. Don’t forget, you have prefect duty Thursday night.” He started down the corridor again, but Sirius didn’t budge, and neither did Michael. 

“What were you two doing?” Michael asked, a faint line of disgust deepening between his nose and the corner of his mouth, “Was it Remus you were talking to? Napping together?”

Sirius cocked his head to the side, spine straightening and feet shifting in a way that seemed to Remus to be aggressive. “Sirius,” He said, “Leave it.” But Sirius wasn’t listening. 

“We were holding hands,” He said, voice a low rumble, deceptively warm, “I think you figured that out though. And yeah, I was. Piece of advice for you: keep your nose out of other people’s business, if you fancy keeping it.” Remus saw Michael’s hand go towards his wand in his pocket in a not-so-subtle answer to Sirius’s threat. 

“I heard your voice. I figured you must be walking with a girl. I thought you were with McKinnon.”

“Not at that moment, I wasn’t, and never romantically,” Sirius said, flipping his hair back over his shoulder, grey eyes haughty, “Got a problem with that?”

“Sirius,” Remus said again, more urgently, “We have better things to do.”

“Give me a minute, Moony.” 

“I think you should go,” Michael said, a note of scorn undisguised in his voice, “Your boyfriend’s calling you.”

“I asked you a question,” Sirius said again, the corners of his lips curling up, “Do you have a problem with Remus and I?”

“I don’t,” Michael said, unabashed, “But I don’t have to share a room with you two. What d--“ He never finished the word; never even had time to pull his wand out of his pocket. Sirius’s fist slammed into his nose in a vicious left hook. Cartilage crunched beneath his knuckles, and Michael gasped in pain, but Sirius only rushed forward. His shoulder caught Michael in the ribs, and they both went flying onto the floor as Sirius tackled him. Blood had started to flow down over Michael’s lips, as Sirius buried a knee in his gut and aimed a jab at his teeth. Distantly, as Remus fumbled for his wand, he realized that, for all their play fighting, he had never actually seen Sirius beat James. But he had also never seen Sirius fight like this. The blow connected, but Michael, growling, got a foot up to kick Sirius in the sternum. There was a tussle. More punches connected. Remus finally got his wand out of his bag as Sirius, snarling in animal pain, dashed blood from his mouth and aimed another punch at Michael’s ruined nose. 

“Impedimenta!” Remus shouted, and Sirius and Michael both froze mid punch, and then, directing his wand at Michael alone, “Locomotor wibbly.” The tension immediately left the muscles in Michael’s legs. Remus’s head was throbbing. His whole face felt ten degrees too hot. He tried to take a breath, but his chest was tight. “Fifty points from Gryffindor,” He said after a few seconds, seeing Sirius lift a hand to a swelling eye. The impediment jinx must be wearing off, “I’d take twenty five from each of you, but I can’t technically deduct points from you, Devane. So just the round fifty from Sirius.”

“Twenty five because of me?” Michael said, the disgust and disbelief on his face mirroring Sirius’s, voice nasal through the broken nose, “I didn’t do anything. I only protected myself. Black’s the one that attacked—“

“I was defending you, Moony! I couldn’t let him—“

“—what was I supposed to do? Just let him punch me in the—“

“—like we don’t have the right to do whatever we damn well—“

“—prefect privileges. I’m going to talk to Professor McGonagall.”

“Ha!” Sirius’s grin looked manic with the blood tracking in between his teeth from his split lip, “Yeah? That’s what you’re going to do? Go tell Minnie? Go on then. Be my guest. Vas-y.” He stood up with a slow elegance that Remus attributed partially to his jinx, shaking out his robes. There was blood down his chin and spattered onto his jumper, and the flesh around his left eye was looking increasingly beefy. Remus didn’t share Sirius’s evident feeling of triumph. His stomach was churning as he pointed his wand at Michael again, and murmured the counter-curse to the jelly-legs jinx. 

Michael stood up, looking mutinous, though he was guarding his nose with one hand, the front of his robes sodden and dark. “Does Potter know?” He shot at Sirius, even as Remus reached out to catch his elbow and lead him forcibly away. 

“’Course he does,” Sirius said blithely, running his tongue over the gash in his lower lip, “Now go stick a fire crab up your arse before I do it for you.” And with that Michael turned and started off down the corridor, and Remus jogged Sirius into walking. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” He murmured, relinquishing Sirius’s arm once they were on their way, shouldering his bag and sticking his free hand into the pocket of his robes, “It was very brash. People are going to talk, and that could have ended even worse than it did.” Sirius shrugged, gingerly prodding at his swollen eye socket.

“I’m alright. And who cares what people say? You shouldn’t have called me off him, Moony. I was winning.” 

Remus sighed, tugging at the hair at the top of his head, feeling keyed up and angry without a proper outlet. “You’d done enough. More than enough,” He snapped, “You shouldn’t have punched him in the first place.”

“He deserved it.”

“You got hurt.”

“Nothing a little healing charm can’t fix,” Sirius said, shooting Remus a hopeful smile that was marred by his swollen eye and bloody mouth. But Remus wasn’t in the mood to be encouraged. His hands were trembling. This was going to come back to bite them, he was sure of it. “Moony,” Sirius said, a little more firmly, reaching out, “It’s no big deal. I’ve punched people before. Minnie will scold me, maybe give me a detention, tell Michael not to be such a sack of dung bombs, and then that will be it. Michael will shoot us dirty looks for a while, but who cares, honestly. I scared him off. It’s not like he can get anyone to gang up against us with him.” Sirius laughed, shaking his hair back, “Really, Moonbeam, the worst thing out of all of that was you taking fifty house points. _Fifty_.” Remus couldn’t even bring himself to pretend to care about the House Cup. “You’re not upset about what that idiot said, are you?”

“Of course I’m upset,” Remus said, voice sharper than he meant it to be, breaking when he didn’t mean it to, a growing tension in his chest that didn’t register in his mind as anything other than anger and difficulty breathing, “Don’t pretend you aren’t, Sirius. You punched him.”

“Someone had to shut him up. I don’t take any of it to heart. Who’s he, anyway?” Sirius said, brow furrowing, swollen lip jutting out, “Moons. Come here—“ He reached out to try to catch Remus’s wrist, but Remus turned abruptly. They were already in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. 

“What in the world happened to you?” She asked Sirius, looking disapprovingly at his state of bedragglement. 

Sirius only smiled his blood-stained smile, though the corners were tighter than before, “Tiddlywinks,” With a sniff, the portrait drew back, and Sirius entered into the common room, helping Remus in behind him, “Moony—“

“Not now, Sirius,” Remus murmured, because already half of the people in the common room had turned to gape at Sirius, who looked every inch like he had just gotten into a fight, and if Sirius started talking to him, or put a hand on him, he wasn’t sure what might come out of his mouth. 

“Dormitory?” Sirius said, urgently, ignoring the curious looks as he tried to herd Remus towards the stairs like a sheepdog. Remus nodded and allowed himself to be shepherded up by Sirius, who looked far too concerned about him, considering just how bad off he was himself. 

As Remus had been sure it would be, the dorm was empty, and setting down his bag and a very sedate Mini Padfoot, he pulled out his wand, jaw tight, hands trembling just a little. “Come here, Sirius. I’ll see what I can do about your eye and mouth,” He said, voice still sounding wrong in his throat.

“Leave it, Moony,” Sirius said, trying to bat his wand away, “Later. I want to talk to you.”

“You’re bleeding. “

“I’m fine.” 

Remus’s knuckles whitened. He felt tight and tense and horribly wrong, and almost as though he wanted to punch Sirius as much as help him, “I’m asking you, please, let me heal you.” 

“Okay Moons,” Sirius said at last, more quietly, and he seated himself on the edge of his bed, turning his face up towards Remus. If anything, he looked worse than he had in the immediate aftermath of the fight. His brow, cheekbone and eyelid were swollen so his eye was nearly closed and the color was still rising in them. His lower lip was stuck in a permanent pout, though at least it looked like the bleeding had nearly stopped. It was an easily fixed mess, but a mess still. Sirius must have been in considerable pain.

“Episkey,” Remus said, and Sirius winced as his lip healed itself at once, and the swelling around his eye reduced considerably—just a slight darkness on the cheekbone and a slightly puffy eyelid to suggest he had been injured. That, and the blood. “Tergeo,” said Remus, and at once the dried blood was scoured away, leaving Sirius nearly as good as new. 

“Thanks, Moony,” Sirius said, touching his lip and eye, as though to confirm the injuries were mostly gone, before licking his lips, brow furrowing again, “Why are you so upset? It will be fine. Michael won’t say anything to us again. He’ll be afraid.” And he would be right to be, Remus thought, grasping on to that one razor-edged comfort. Michael Devane was just a match for Sirius physically, less than a match for him magically, and if James was there, or if Remus had intervened to aid Sirius instead of drive the pair apart, it wouldn’t even be fair. And Sirius was right, too. Devane would have a very hard time finding anyone willing to harass either of them. He was a prefect, Sirius was renowned for his hexes, and they were both friends with James, who was Head Boy on top of being more trouble than anyone could reasonably deal with. Even if people wanted to harass them. For… for what? For holding hands? For taking naps together? For snogging, now and then? They would have a hard time doing it. At least here. At least for now. Remus tried to scrounge around for words to explain his anger, either at Sirius specifically or at Michael or in general, but it was difficult to pin anything down that was logical. He had tolerated far greater offenses from Sirius against other members of the student body with less provocation. 

“Exam stress,” He said at last, voice strained, “That’s all.” He turned away, but too slowly to escape Sirius, who grabbed his hand. 

“Rubbish. Come on. Talk to me. He upset you. I want to know why. He’s an idiot. The world is full of idiots. He’s nothing special. Please…” And Sirius shot him such a mournful, puppy-eyed look that Remus couldn’t help but sit down on the bed beside him, pushing away the half-finished crossword that Sirius had stolen out of Peter’s copy of the Prophet.

“The world is full of idiots, Sirius. You can’t just punch them all.”

“I punched him though. One down, right?” Sirius grinned, the corners of his grey eyes crinkling. Normally Remus would have found the smile charming, but it left him cold and ill at ease now. He looked away, fighting to keep down the emotion bubbling up in his throat, to be rational, rather than explode or lash out. Sirius’s smile was growing increasingly sober. It was gone before Remus found suitable words.

“It’s easy to say that people’s opinions don’t matter, so long as those people aren’t people you care about. But it’s just not true, Sirius. Michael’s opinion, people who have opinions like his, they change how I can… live my life. So when he said that I felt… shocked. Because I guess I had forgotten that—well. I’m not universally approved of. Lots of people find fault with… more than one aspect of my identity. For now, in this school, I have lots of things in my advantage that keep Devane from being a threat. But it’s not nice to remember that I’m not going to be able to live my life the way I want to when I graduate, for example. Because those protections don’t extend outside of Hogwarts. Does that make sense?” Remus had never seen Sirius look quite so grave. 

“Yes. I won’t apologize for punching that prat. But I’m sorry for trying to trivialize what you were feeling. That was—Merlin, Moony.” He dragged his long fingers back through his hair, looking extinguished. 

“I forgive you,” Remus said, as he put a hand on Sirius’s shoulder and squeezed. Like putting a match to kindling, the brightness in Sirius’s face bloomed. 

With a wry chuckle, Sirius knocked it away, “Don’t you comfort me.” He wrapped an arm around Remus’s waist instead and hugged him tight, “We’re alright, aren’t we? If you don’t want to hold hands in the hallway again, I understand, but I—“

“Maybe no more hand holding,” Remus agreed, trying to let the tension sap out of his shoulders, and leaning to rest his head against Sirius’s, “But I don’t see why we can’t do this.”

“What about this?” Sirius asked, turning so their foreheads brushed before reaching out to catch Remus’s chin in his hand, dragging his thumb over his lower lip, “Can we still snog?” Remus couldn’t help but smile, seeing the warmth in Sirius’s face, feeling the stroke against his mouth. The mere suggestion that Sirius might miss kissing him was--

“Tu es bête comme ses pieds,” Mini Padfoot said from the floor, and Sirius, eyebrows arching, glanced towards the stairs. There was James, grinning like a Cheshire cat, all but vibrating with excess energy. Remus pulled his head away from Sirius’s hand, face burning, but Sirius didn’t relinquish his hold on Remus’s waist, even as he tried to draw back.

“There you two are,” James said, as if it was a surprise to find them there, though he didn’t acknowledge that their lips had been mere inches apart when he came in, “I heard someone casting an impediment jinx from the ROR, so I went out to have a poke around. That sixth year prefect what’s-his-face… Michael was there, looking like he’d run head-on into a wall. He tried to tell me some rot about you two, and so I hexed him. He’ll be sneezing sardines for the rest of today through a broken nose. Filch will have a real mess on his hands.” Sirius roared with laughter, clutching Remus tighter with one arm as he reached out with the other to solicit a high-five from James. 

“Good one, Jamie!” 

James high-fived Sirius maybe a little too enthusiastically, bouncing up and down in place, “You two alright?”

“I’m fine,” Sirius said, “Moony fixed me right up. What about you, Moons? How are you?”

“Fine,” Remus said, though he didn’t feel fine. His stomach was in knots again. Was all of that magically enhanced caffeine the reason why James seemed not to have understood the scene he had walked in on? “Just fine.”

“Well, good,” said James, grinning, “Peter went down to the kitchens to grab us some snacks but… I’ll intercept him in the common room, alright?”

“Brilliant,” Sirius said, returning the broad smile as James turned to dart back down the stairs, “See you down there in a mo.” 

“Ta,” James shouted up the stairwell. And Remus remembered something that he had barely registered at the time. 

“Sirius,” He asked, “Does James know that we cuddle, sometimes?” 

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah. I told him ages ago. I don’t keep any secrets from Prongs.”

Remus’s heart was hammering. Forcing a deep breath, he wet his lips, “And?”

“And nothing. I just told him, and he said it was a shame he couldn’t sleep in the girl’s dormitory sometimes.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t help it. He started laughing. The fact that James knew something of his second secret and had accepted it without question or a second thought filled Remus with an enormous burst of relief. And maybe it was in part the stress and the sleep deprivation, but within seconds he was in a fit of laughter, face pressed into Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius was trying to turn to look at him, nonplussed. 

“Moony—Moonbeam—what are you laughing at?” 

“Nothing,” Remus managed, “Just _Prongs_.” 

“Yeah. My sweet brother: he is a riot,” Sirius said, wrapping Remus up in a tight embrace, “’s alright, Moony. Prongs loves you nearly as much as I do.” And whether despite the laughter or in part because of it, Remus wasn’t sure, within a few seconds he was crying into Sirius’s robes.


End file.
